I am driving with a friend to a house. We keep getting lost just south of 52nd street, going in spirals in a cul-de-sac after cul-de-sac neighborhood where the roads where crumbling to gravel.

Eventually we find it, a circular house set into a large tree, in a lot just like any of the other houses around the U-District. There was a spiral ramp leading up-and-widdershins into the house. As we walk up the ramp, I notice the branches sniffing at me, like large dogs. Each large branch had two mouths that spoke unintelligable nonsense, and red blossoms that I could feel taking blood through my skin as they brush over me. There is no pain, but I wonder if I will black out before I got to the top.

I reach the end of the ramp, alone. The top has become bottom, and I am deep underground. The vinelike branches are still here, stretching across the walls, but they cannot reach me any more, no matter how hard they try. As I round the final corner, the branches are almost gone, although there are smaller branches here, stapled to the wall, still writhing and ... singing. Suddenly their gibbering makes sense as a kind of music. Hosannas. I turn the last corner to see what they are praising.CategoryDream